


Fair Hearts

by Eliante



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alistair is a perfect gentleman, Alistair's POV, Banter, Canon Compliant, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Drama, Drunk Hawke thinks she is sexy, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Infidelity, Morrigan is a witch, One is not like the others, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Purple-Red Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliante/pseuds/Eliante
Summary: Alistair and Hawke come together for a common cause but barely know each other. When Hawke is looking for a drinking companion, the Warden serves her well. Alistair realizes he agreed to more than he can possibly take.Some immersion of both characters into the group of companions.Time frame: When Alistair and Hawke are both in Skyhold during Here Lies the AbyssContains no Trespasser spoilers.
Relationships: Alistair & Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Hawke, Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Needed a break from Solavellan, and I always thought the connection between Alistair and Hawke was a bit off and should have some more background, for the general setting and for how Here Lies the Abyss ends.
> 
> This is my stress-relief-fanfic, so read at your own risk.

“Oh come on! You are no fun.” Hawke said discouraged.  
“I just know when to place my bets. And this is definitely a bet I stand the chance of losing.” Varric spoke in defence. “It’s nothing personal.”  
“Half a bottle! It’s not like everyone can do it.” she boasted, trying to talk him into taking the bet, but Varric shook his head determinedly, crossing his arms in front of his chest in protest.

“Half a bottle of what?” Alistair, who had overheard the conversation, came up to the two of them in the courtyard of Skyhold. The sun had not even set and they were already talking about drinking?  
“Half a bottle of West Hill. She says she can drink that on her own.” Varric answered. “Let me tell you, Hawke might look like she cannot handle it, but when she drinks it’s like you are facing a bottomless hole.”  
“Hey, hey, that is still Lady Bottomless Hole to you, Messere.” Hawke commented in a lecturing tone but followed up with a grin. Slowly she came to eye Alistair, her arms folded in front of her, a hand raised to her chin as she looked him up. He stood tall, blonde hair and sturdy armour almost sparkling in the sun with how gallant a man he was. Strong shoulders, but with a touch of something gentle, almost feminine in him - the dichotomy of strong and soft attributes creating a certain appeal.

“You look like you can take me on.” she contemplated, “We didn’t really have the chance to get to know each other yet but you seem like you can hold your drink?”  
“Why, of course I can. Of what use would I be if I couldn’t?” Alistair replied with a confident smile.  
“Oh” Hawke chuckled amusedly, a dirty grin appearing on her face that made the Warden flinch. “ _You_ can definitely take me on then.”

“Hawke, he is taken.” Varric sighed, “Also don’t mind me, I am just standing here and don’t need to be introduced obviously. But hey, Varric Tethras, not a Grey Warden, and not the Champion of anywhere either.” Alistair gave the dwarven man an unsure glance while Varric shrugged at their fate of coming together, but Hawke was quick to come between them.  
“No one’s asking you, Varric. You aren’t playing anyway.” she dismissed him playfully before coming to cling to the Warden’s arm in order to walk him to the tavern, his armour rustling against her clothes in the act.  
“You’re buying, handsome.” she said winking at him, which led him to look at her helplessly.  
“Oh, hah, lucky me?” he concluded, unsure whether happy or not about the turn of events. Had he even agreed?

* * *

“... And that is how I slayed a dragon!” Hawke spoke, looking proudly at her drinking companion sitting across the tavern table before she wrapped her fingers around her liquor-filled mug and emptied it in one go.  
“So. You’ve never slayed a dragon?” Alistair figured, watching the mug being set back on the table with a sound. In front of him was a pint of ale, and close to it a bottle with an amber-coloured liquid of which almost a quarter had been poured.  
“No. Never.” she admitted instantly and both laughed.  
“I enjoy your stories, but don’t you have a few that are true?” Alistair finally asked, pouring her another round of West Hill Brandy.  
“Ah, yes. But most of them are sad. Do you want to cry, Grey Warden?”  
“No.” He frowned, shaking his head. “I, in fact, do not want to cry. Make me laugh.”  
“Then you will have to deal with my blatant lies. Or you tell me one of your stories.”  
“One of mine?” He pondered for a while, then was reminded of one. “I did kill a dragon. But that wasn’t all on my own. Oh, yeah, I also almost became King at one time.”  
Hawke coughed on her drink, almost spilled it but held a hand in front of her mouth.

“King?!” she exclaimed when she caught herself again. “Are you a royal of some sort? I thought you are a common Grey Warden.”  
“Ahh” he waved it off. “It’s a long story, but there is some royal blood involved. Needless to say, it’s not my place to be. I like being on the field, fighting, helping, and yes, slaying Dragons instead of thinking about political matters.”  
“Why, you seem like a smart lad though.” Hawke commented.  
“Well, I would hope so but-- Wait, are you flirting with me?” Alistair could swear she was looking at him with different eyes now that he had confessed the blood relation to the royal court. He raised an eyebrow at her, at which she equally raised an eyebrow at him.  
“No?” she said, although with the intonation of a question.  
“Good... Good.” the blonde replied, a hint of confusion lingering due to the tone in her voice, but he quickly drank the notion away by raising his mug and taking generous sips.

“You are Fereldan as well, aren’t you?” Hawke inquired.  
“Yes. I didn’t know you were. Which corner are you from?” Now that it was mentioned, he could hear the accent and found comfort in the idea of home in her voice.  
“I was born close to Amaranthine but I have lived many years in Lothering... until the Blight, that is.” Hawke’s eyes lowered.  
“Lothering! That was a massacre.” Alistair looked at her with compassion.  
“Told you it’s only sad stories. This is why I make up most of them, it’s way more fun that way. But it’s also Varric’s fault; he rubbed off on me. I did not use to lie this much before I met him.” She smiled a little but looked mournful nevertheless.  
The Warden could sense a deep sadness in her, and he felt like there was much more behind the surface, much more than she would ever let anyone know. There was something there, in her eyes, that reminded him of an itch in the back of his heart, but he could not tell what it was. Hawke met his gaze, but soon enough became distracted by the bottle on the table that she had emptied a fourth of on her own.

“Ha-hey! Look, I am almost there.”  
“Are you still seeing straight, My Lady? This is nowhere near half.” he corrected her objectively.  
“Half? Oh wait, this is... wait, you are right.” she murmured and at once emptied her mug again, setting it back on the table with the same sound as before. As Alistair’s hand reached for the bottle, she stopped him by a hand on his and a serious look in her eyes - until the eye lids became heavy and hard to hold open.  
“No. I can’t do this.” she spoke, her eyes locked on his bare left hand on the bottle for a moment before letting go. A strange empty, airy feeling was left on Alistair’s skin where she held him and he withdrew his hand from the bottle, holding it in his other hand in the reminiscence of her touch. 

* * *

It was in the late evening when Alistair took off his armour and dropped down on his temporary bed in Skyhold. Luckily it had just been a short walk from the tavern that was located on the same level as his room. He was about to unlace his boots, when he stopped in his actions at the sound of a knock at the door. It was gentle at first, one knock, then one more. Alistair wondered who it could be at this hour. Then the knocking became stronger and heavier, until all of a sudden the door bursted open from Hawke’s weight. Clumsily the heavily drunk woman stumbled, almost fell flat on her face, but with her hand on the handle gracefully regained control and straightened herself up - all within a second, making it seem like she had never lost balance.  
An emotionless expression was on Alistair’s face while he watched the whole act, and he wondered how he had not realized her overly drunk state when they had parted only minutes ago at the tavern.

“Warden” she rasped with an arm propped up against the door frame and her body leaning forward. It made him wonder if she was about to seduce someone or throw up. “You wouldn’t mind doing a Lady a favour, would you?”  
“That depends entirely on the favour, My Lady.” Alistair answered, his foot set down as he decided to not take off his boots just yet.  
“Might I remind you beforehand, I won that bet, so you owe me.”  
“You _lost_ it, My Lady.” Alistair’s corrective tone was merciless.  
“Wait, what? I did drink a quarter of that bottle.” Hawke said confused, her speech becoming sluggish.  
“The bet was for half the bottle.”  
“Half? Who would be so stupid to say they can drink half a bottle of that disgusting venom?” she spoke in genuine surprise, making Alistair chuckle.  
“All the same... my quarters are upstairs.” she concluded.

“Oh and, you want me to guide you to your room? Carry you even, maybe?” Alistar could guess where this was going. Though he had technically won the bet, he would not think of refusing her his help.  
“Don’t be stupid.” she replied harshly, waving the idea off with her hand. “I don’t even know where my room is. I get lost in this damned castle all the time. Whenever I make a wrong turn, I end up opening the doors and I am at the battlements. Battlements, battlements, wherever I go. Do you know where they made me meet the Herald of Andraste?”  
“The battlements?” Alistair smiled, but decided to hear her out.  
“The damn battlements!” she confirmed, her fist hitting the wood in frustration.

“Anyway, I would like you to offer me your bed, soldier.” she spoke in an almost completely sober tone.  
“My _bed_?” Alistair laughed out loud, but realized she was serious. “And where will I sleep? Will I be the one to search your bed upstairs then?”  
“As you like.” She shrugged, but Alistair shook his head at the idea.  
“Why don’t you take a bed at the tavern?” he suggested instead.  
“And where to take the coin for it?” she asked and slyly, while the Warden let a long stare pass between them, breezed into his room, closing the door behind her.

“No, I am afraid I cannot allow this.” he stood up and walked towards her, reaching for the door handle right next to her waist, brushing against her clothes by accident in the process. The Champion took it as an invitation and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him to her. Completely taken aback, Alistair’s hands rushed to support his weight against the wooden door on either side of her head.  
“ _Madness_ ” he exhaled as he caught himself so close to her, feeling the softness of her body against his. As he, with a certain hesitance, pushed himself off the door and off her, she grasped his hand - the very left hand she had been staring at so long when they were in the tavern.  
“Where is your ring, Warden?” she spoke quickly and held up his hand for emphasis, “If you are spoken for, where is your ring? Or did you hide it before approaching me?” She winked, but failed to make it look effortless and sexy, so that it looked rather like something was tickling her nose and she was about to sneeze - making Alistair stare at her in confusion.

“I am with the Hero of Ferelden but we aren’t married.” he explained, but frowned at his own choice of words. Was he stating that for himself or for her?  
“Then you have made no vow.” the woman explained with a grin, but in a sudden fashion let go of him. “Now, if you excuse me, I must take a quick rest.”  
Without further ado and followed by Alistair’s gaze, she walked towards the bed and dropped herself on it, boots barely hanging over the edge of the mattress.  
“Hawke!” Alistair urged, but found her asleep in an instant. How drunk had she been to fall unconscious within seconds? She could surely hide it well.  
A defeated sigh came from him as he sat next to her on the bed. Looking at her peacefully resting face, he gave in. His boots came off, and he helped her out of hers as well. _Half a bottle_ , he thought to himself and snorted.

* * *

In the middle of the night the Grey Warden’s eyes blinked open as something was tickling his face - it was Hawke’s dark strands of hair as she was lying with her back against him. She shifted and hummed as she awoke, instantly becoming aware of the body behind her. In a teasing manner she threw her hips back against the unknown man before she turned to look at him - even though she could not see him clearly in the dark room, she could tell a gorgeous man from a unsightly one in any light.  
“Maker” she spoke pleasantly surprised with the sight of him and let a hand lay on his muscular chest. “This is the best drunk dream ever.”  
Still half asleep, Alistair shut his eyes in disbelief, then opened them once more, trying to make out the figure of the unknown woman with the sensual voice. There was something alluring about her, something tempting - the lure of forbidden fruit, the scent of a dangerous flower.

“I highly doubt this is a dream, Lady Haw-- aww--ahh” he was interrupted in his thoughts by her invasive grip to his very private - yet still clothed - quarters.  
“Maker _have mercy_ ” she breathed in surprise at the hardness she could feel, yet in a matter of seconds the approval vanished as her hands were taken a hold of.  
“Please don’t.” he insisted, letting go as he set up an arm against the mattress to sit up, but was interrupted by the warmth of the feminine slender shape pressing him back towards her with her arms around him. How warm and soft she was... Instinctively his hands closed in on her lower waist, making him feel the curves of her body, the fabric offering no resistance.

“Lady Hawke... I don’t think we should be doing this.” His thoughts were racing, telling him this was wrong. But it felt natural, it felt right, like a long forgotten comfort.  
“Marian. You can call me Marian.” she suggested with a grin. “And in case you didn't notice, your hands are still on me, Warden.”  
In shock Alistair let go of her and sat up on the side of the bed, hands covering his face in shame.  
“I think you should go. I am sorry, but you _must_ go.” he demanded, though a sense of guilt crept up in him.  
“I cannot even feel my legs.” she joked, laughing at herself but as Alistair’s inquisitive gaze laid on her, she returned to a serious tone, “Okay, no, I can feel my legs. I just don’t think I can stand or walk.”  
“I will carry you.” Alistair insisted but Hawke shook her head.  
“I still can’t remember where my room is. I could never remember it in the first place, I am here since two days.”  
Her words were spoken in such a reassuring way that all that Alistair heard was: Don’t worry, I am going to stay here with you all night, and I will torment you in every possible way.

“Then I have to go.” the Warden decided.  
“Do you despise me, Alistair?” Hawke’s words cut right through him and made him turn around to her.  
“Of course not!”  
“I am lonely. I don’t know anyone here besides Varric.” she spoke and heaved herself up to lean against the headrest, bringing their gazes on an equal level and her face into the stream of light that came from the window. Alistair could see her features now, the smudged black from her lashes, the vanished taupe from her lips. Her face seemed a bit puffy, yet not ugly in the slightest. There was something natural about her messed-up state, a hint of intimacy.  
“I don’t know anyone here either, besides Leliana and that witch that hangs out at the gardens.” A disgusted noise left him at the thought of her. And he had even slept with her. Come to think of it, he had done way worse things than what he had done tonight, but his lover had been fine with it. Because it spared their lives. This was, of course, something else.

“See, that is how we got here. We have been working together, but we know close to nothing of each other. You seemed fun, and smart, so I wanted your company.” she spoke again.  
”I am flattered, but I do not think it is a good idea to share a bed.”  
“Fine. Have it your way.” Discouraged, Hawke sat up to reach for her boots, but felt her head spinning at the sudden movement and held a hand to it. Alistair came rushing to the other side of the bed, holding her by the shoulder. He would not risk it.  
“No, stay. You need to rest.” he insisted, then sighed, “I will leave. You can have my bed.”  
He sat with her on the edge but when her guilty eyes came to meet him, he let his hand run from her shoulder along her arm before it parted. Then he grabbed his own boots and she silently watched him lacing them.  
“Alistair... you don’t have to leave.” she whispered, but he was already at the door, opening it.  
“Alistair!” she shouted in despair, but he was already past the door, and it was closed behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, a Qunari, a Grey Warden and a dwarf walk into a bar...

Alistair’s sword hit the training dummy hard, so hard that it was shaking. But he hit it again, flanked it left and right, giving it no rest until he himself was out of breath. He had completely forgotten about his surroundings until he took a rest, calming his breathing in the courtyard he was standing. People around him were not minding him, after all, everyone trained here occasionally, given the chance when no one else was lined up for it. In the late morning, like today, there was nothing the like - people were too busy with their preparations for lunch.

As his breathing had normalized and he was about to strike the dummy again, the face of a woman appeared behind it, chin resting on the dummy’s shoulder. Alistair halted in his movements, then his arm holding the sword dropped, an indefinable expression on his face - something along the lines of disappointment and confusion.  
“You want to try and strike it again? Without hitting the head or slitting the throat, that is.” Hawke asked with a face completely devoid of any emotion while the chin leaned there steadily. Her hair was tied in a strict bun again, no loose strands; her make-up was on point.  
“I’d rather not, My Lady.” he replied and hit a tone filled with more disgust than intended.  
“Oh you are no fun.” she replied and led her hands around the figure, holding it in an embrace. “Need more of a challenge then? Hit it but don’t hit me.”  
The Warden snorted, sheathing his sword finally.  
“Hey, I am offering you a fairly good training here. What if an enemy is held like this by someone you would not want to hurt?”  
“You’re implying that I wouldn’t hurt you.” Alistair snorted again.  
“Would you?” Hawke raised her eyebrows in surprise, arms letting go of the figure. “My, don’t excite me like that, Warden.”  
She moved to stand in front of him, eyes raised to his level.  
“Listen, I--”  
“Where have you been last night?” she interrupted him and he froze immediately. Signs of discomfort visible on his face, he tilted his head and looked away from her.

The night he had spent away from his room had been everything but comfortable. First he had walked it off in the fields like a lonely wanderer, trying to get rid of the thoughts of guilt. Eventually, when he had grown too tired to walk further, he had taken a bed at the tavern, as he had suggested to Hawke. In the morning the thoughts of guilt came back like an oversized heavy shield he had to carry. But the Champion was the last person he would think of confiding in.

“I believe I asked you a question, didn’t I?” she insisted but grinned soon after seeing Alistair’s fleeting gaze.  
“Well, never mind then. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve spent hours pleasuring myself in your bed.” Her grin widened. “So if you want to tell the servants to change the sheets, or precisely, _not_ to change the sheets... be my guest.”  
Alistair frowned, confused about the words and the feelings it induced in him. Why did he not know what he felt, other than confusion? Why was he not disgusted by the thought alone?  
“Hawke!” he called out when she turned her back on him, the first steps away from him already taken.  
“Marian.” she corrected, turning around to face him once more.  
“Why are you doing this to me?”  
“No” she walked back, standing straight and tall right before him, so close that it was almost intimidating. “Why are _you_ doing this to me? What did I do to deserve being treated like this?”  
“Like what? I am not treating you any diff-”  
“Oh shut _up_.” she interrupted. “I have been told enough lies in my life, don’t even start.”  
Alistair swallowed. Maybe he was lying, more so to himself than to her.  
“Hawke...” he started in a gentle tone, but her gaze was stern.  
“Marian.” he corrected himself and her eyebrows raised, the gaze softened. “I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry.”  
She studied him, waited for something else to follow. But there was no follow-up.  
“Get in touch with your feelings, Warden. You’re completely out of it.” she scoffed before turning around, leaving him with a confused expression on his face.

* * *

_Oh sweet Maker_. Alistair was completely out of his mind and he had only realized it once he lied down on his bed. She had obviously made it, though sloppily, and she had not lied, he noticed it as soon as he had sat down. Such womanly smell - it had been weeks since Alistair had a chance to take in a woman’s smell as intimately as that. That sweet scent of feminine sweat, mixed with the aphrodisiac overtone.  
_Dear Maker_. The pleading call for strength of faith repeated in his head. He had not even realized how addictive that scent was until now that he had been denied it for so long. Did his lover smell like that? Oh, his lover, right, he was with her. She smelled differently, at least from what he could remember, and her frame was smaller than Hawke’s. She was indeed a different woman, sweeter, less aggressive, keeping her pain and feelings much more to herself. But Hawke... her smudged lips that night, the longing gaze, her soft breasts against his chest. The memory was all too vivid and alluring.

Alistair sighed in despair, sitting up on his bed again. He would not find any rest here. The Champion’s words made sense finally. He was indeed not in touch with his feelings, they were all over the place and he had no strength, he was not even in the right mind to pick up all the fragments. He would walk it off, or get some sort of distraction somewhere. Maybe at the tavern. Yes, the tavern was the best place to be right now, he decided. Once his hard-on had subsided of course.

Minutes later he was passing through the courtyard again. There was hints of Hawke’s voice, arguing with someone somewhere further off, but he decided to strictly ignore it for the sake of his poor tortured mind. The door of the tavern swung open, and he swiftly found his way to the bar, ordering himself a drink. Second night in a row drinking. He could still excuse it with the given circumstances - the Calling the Wardens heard, all the voices, yes, that would do. Though he knew he only heard one sort of calling inside, one that quieted all the others, and it was a woman’s voice.

“Weren’t you here last night as well, boy?” An unknown voice asked the Warden, and he turned his face to the side, seeing Iron Bull sit down next to him.  
“I was. Yeah... yeah. What can I say?” he joked, unsure how to explain his presence.  
“Oh, no need to explain yourself, boy. I was just wondering if it was you.” he reassured with a one-sided grin and raised his glass to him in salutation. “Where did you leave that pretty lady of yours?”  
“She is not _my_ lady, so I’m afraid I don’t know.”  
“Oh, pity that. Pity that.” Iron Bull repeated his words, clinging to them with a particular sound of regret.  
  
The Qunari was about to raise his voice again when the tavern’s door swung open and his and Alistair’s eyes were on it. As it had seemed like no one entered, they had to lower their gazes to see the dwarf walking in. They watched Varric come up to the bar, far off from them, heaving himself onto the bar chair with an effort that he tried to conceal, then he pointed out a finger to the bartender, accompanied by the polite order of “One ale, please.”  
The bartender nodded and disappeared into the back, leaving Varric’s gaze to wander and eventually meet the Warden’s.  
“Oh, Warden. What a surprise to meet you here.” the dwarf stated, loud enough to surpass the distance of the two seats between them. There was no way he would heave himself all the way down and up to one of those again. “Glad Hawke made it through the night.”  
Iron Bull sipped his drink in quiet curiosity while Alistair frowned a little at the statement.  
“What do you mean? Did she find back to her room in the end?” the Warden asked.  
“Her room? What? Yeah, of course. Why would she not?” Varric shook off the thought as the ale he had ordered was placed in front of him. “So. Had fun with her last night?”  
“What?!” Alistair exclaimed in shock.  
“Oh, I drink to _that_!” Bull’s glass met Alistair’s set on the counter with a clinking sound and he laughed before he gulped down his drink.  
“What do you mean, what? She said you were drinking, then she was too drunk to walk so you carried her up to her room.” the dwarven man explained. “So you must have been drinking a lot?”  
“Ohh.” The explanation gave some clarity and Alistair nodded vehemently after processing the altered ending of their night. “Yeah, you didn’t lie, she can drink like a bottomless hole. But didn’t make it to half.”  
The Qunari chuckled at the remark, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand from the drink that he had gulped down too quickly.  
“So what was that fight all about? I could hear you from the window.” Bull asked Varric. His glass set down on the counter and another drink ordered, he settled between the companions, the two bar chairs offering just enough space.  
“Ugh, women.” Varric waved the thought off with his hand. “Hawke wants to go and face Erimond and the Wardens alone.”  
“Alone? Like, completely alone? Riding in on a horse or ...?” Alistair asked in disbelief.  
“Well, you don’t have to tell me that. I told her it was crazy and that she should just calm down. She went off and said she will be packing for the journey.”  
“I sense some excess energy that needs to be worked off there.” Bull added, then turned back to quietly sipping his drink. Varric shook his head.  
“She just wants to argue, she has those days when she just wants to argue. She will probably calm down.” The dwarven man nodded at his own words, reassuring himself. “Hopefully.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bar banter with Sera. Hawke reveals her distress. Alistair wants to help but does not understand a thing.

“Wait wait wait, I got it, I got it” Sera spoke as she approached the group of unlikely drinking companions, then pointed at the three of them who turned towards her. “Why do a Qunari, a Grey Warden and a dwarf walk into a bar?”  
“Is this supposed to be funny? Because I’ve got enough people poking fun at me as it is.” Varric spoke and as so often, one could not tell if he was genuinely not amused or just teasing.  
“No idea. Tell us.” Alistair spoke, his hand raised and dropped again in a surrendering manner.  
Sera ordered an ale for herself before settling onto a bar chair at the side and turning to the group.  
“Because they want a good bang before they're fucked over by _Coryphepuss_ ” Sera snickered, making all three companions roll their eyes, Iron Bull letting out a fatigued groan.  
“See, that’s the groan of someone who hasn’t banged in a while.” the elven woman added quickly.  
“Don’t even remind me of it.” he said, but encouraged Sera to tell him more about effective techniques to lure in a female for mating practices. Her lecturing words, although by the sound of them they could as well be a prank, piqued the Qunari’s interest and he got up from his seat, drink in his hand, and walked over, sitting down next to her.  
“Really?”  
“All true! I swear” Sera confirmed with a grin and Bull nodded, then stared into space as he pondered the foreign pick-up technique he had just learned.

Alistair watched them getting lost in an exchange of short sentences, mostly marked by disbelief from Bull’s side, and felt a sudden loneliness creep into his heart. Or maybe it was still guilt. He felt guilty for leaving Hawke alone, for driving her away and not speaking to her.  
“Hey, I don’t really remember where Hawke’s room was” Alistair lied casually, moving two seats closer to the dwarven man, who immediately took the hint.  
“Upstairs, at the level of the battlements. In that little tower in the back.” he stated and Alistair chuckled. No wonder Hawke always ended up there.  
“Why do you ask?” Varric inquired, eyes narrowing while Alistair shrugged and was just about to make up an excuse. “You’re not thinking of going up there, are you?”  
Alistair tilted his head, unsure whether he really wanted to.  
“I just... She said she is lonely last night. I feel bad for her.”  
“She’s always lonely when she has no one to sleep with!” Varric exclaimed angrily, then sighed. “Don’t let that lure you in. She will rip you into pieces if you go up there now.”  
Alistair listened to the warning carefully and his hand crept up to the nape of his neck while he was still considering to check up on her.  
“Alistair. Don’t.” Varric insisted in a firm tone, bringing the Warden’s gaze upon him. “We’re all lonely here. It doesn’t give her any right to start fights for no reason and make people feel bad.”  
The Grey Warden nodded, following the thoughts in a logical manner. But his heart spoke a different language.

It might have been his guilt, but it might also have been his curiosity that had gotten Alistair all the way to the little tower room. Seeing how it was cut-off from all the other rooms, it came as no surprise to him that the Champion felt lonely. The pang to his heart came back, and it gave him an even greater shock when he heard a woman’s voice behind the door. Without giving it a second thought, he knocked on the door, but the sounds he heard did not cede.  
“Go away.” she said, sobbing. Only now Alistair realized the door was already ajar, and he pushed it open gently. It revealed Hawke with her back to him, knelt down before the chest, sorting her belongings in it. Her breathing was irregular, he could not tell if she was angry, or maybe even amused.  
“Marian?” he asked, taking a step inside, making her swing around in her seat on the floor, “Are you-- are you laughing or crying?”  
She got up immediately, slapping his chest and arms with her bare hands to push him away.  
“Of course I am crying!” she cried out, “Why would I be laughing, you idiot”  
“Hey, hey-- Stop” Alistair took a hold of her wrists, so that they were both standing still. In shock he realized he could see the traces of tears on her face, the black colour on her lashes smudged like last night.  
“I said go away” she repeated, staring at him angrily.  
“Do you really want that?” Alistair asked quietly, her wrists still in his grasp but both of their arms lowered now and Hawke shied away from his gaze. “You say you’re lonely - I take it you want company. Then you push me away. What, Maker Almighty, do you want?”  
  
The Warden was confused but genuinely interested in an answer. Cautiously he let go off her wrists, hoping she was calm enough. She shook her head, closed her eyes and a painful expression came to her face as the tears started flowing again. She walked to her bed and sat down on it, her hands clenched into fists in her lap.  
“I don’t belong here. I want to go home to Kirkwall.” she finally spoke and sighed. “I just want to get this over with.”  
Slowly Alistair came up to her and sat beside her on the bed. For a second, he only watched her. She did not return the gaze.  
“It’s no reason to go out on your own though.” he spoke rationally, yet with empathy in his voice. Hawke’s fists clenched harder.  
“Varric that bastard. So he told you?”  
“He is worried. I think he just wanted people to know in case you try to head out alone, so we could keep an eye on you. It’s... come on now. Marian.” Alistair started, but realized rationality would not get him far. His voice became overly soft as he spoke her name and he laid an arm around her shoulders in a friendly manner. Hawke’s eyes were wide open at the sudden gesture and her fists loosened. She cried again, tears flowing, until with a jerk she turned to him and hugged him tight. Taken aback by the sudden change of heart, Alistair froze for a second, but then instinctively put his hands on her back, soothingly running along it.  
“Alistair...” she sobbed against his chest, nuzzling against his warmth.  
“It’ll be okay. You’ll go home. We’ll all go home.” he comforted her, rubbing her back.  
There was nothing left to be said between the two of them. In silence she cried and he held her.

* * *

When Alistair awoke in the morning, he realized he was not in his room. At the edge of the bed, he saw Hawke with her back to him, hair in a loosened knot, tying her boots. Second night in a row sleeping next to Hawke. There had to be a trophy for these sorts of achievements.  
“Good morning.” he greeted weakly, then cleared his throat. No answer, no reaction whatsoever. In his drowsy state he wondered whether they had done something that he could not recall. “... Did we-- did I--?”  
“We didn’t.” was the short answer from her when she finished lacing her boots and put her foot back down on the floor. Her hands settled loosely on the edge of the mattress but she did not turn around to face him. “I need you to leave now.”  
“Wait, what? Why, all of a sudden?” Alistair spoke bewildered. It was not like he was going to stay here all day but something about her tone was off, cold and distanced.  
“I can’t stay in bed with a man I haven’t slept with.” she explained calmly, her gaze on the floor.  
“Okay...” Alistair sat up, shifting closer to her on the edge, frowning at the words that seemed to be arranged in a strange order. He did not understand why she urged him to leave immediately when they had spent the whole night together, but he was going to pretend it was okay. Only because he remembered her crying in his arms, and because he still felt a hint of sympathy.  
“But everything is alright between us... right?”  
His hand wandered over to hers on the mattress, but she pulled away and stood up.  
“It’s all good. Don’t worry.” she nodded right away. The answer came almost too fast, too light-hearted. Finally she turned and faced him, her back settled against the desk across from the bed. “Just don’t ever come to my room again.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Varric become bros. Explanations on why the companions have so much time to hang out at the tavern. Elves/halla jokes.

> _Dearest Kallian,_
> 
> _I do not know if my letter will get through to you, but I sincerely hope all is well.  
>  After falling out with Warden-Commander Clarel, I now find myself in the Frostback Mountains on the border to Orlais, as an ally of the Inquisition._
> 
> _Inquisitor Lavellan has accepted me kindly, and I felt your presence when I spoke fondly about you to her. She seemed to admire you, and even want to meet you one day. Once more I felt proud, honoured even, to have you at my side._  
>    
> 

  
Alistair stopped writing, holding the pen firmly. Eventually it was laid down on the table, next to the ink jar. He could not think of anything else to write that would not get him into trouble. His hands covered his face and he sighed. Then they lowered, one hand set against the chin for support, the other lying idly on the wooden surface of the desk.  
He was alone in his room, yet he could still felt her presence. Not his lover’s, no; he felt Hawke’s arms around him wherever he went. Her voice crying out his name, her face appearing in his thoughts whenever he had a quiet moment to himself. Even now it seemed like he could hear her voice, and it started to manifest in his mind. Maybe this was not his mind playing tricks on him.

Swiftly Alistair decided to leave the letter as it was and exited his room, following the stairs up to the main hall. Indeed he could hear Hawke’s voice from the ambassador’s room; she was arguing. At his side in the hall he saw Varric who gave him a knowing look. Both stared at each other in silence while they listened in on the two female voices from the wide-opened door.

“I am not taking these excuses anymore!” Hawke said in agitation.  
“My Lady, you must understand, the Inquisitor has a lot of issues to solve - and some must be handled before others.” Josephine’s tone was as diplomatic as ever.  
“Excuses, again! I have been here almost a _week_!”  
“The Inquisitor is currently away and all I can do is send another letter with your pleading. With that, however, I am already reaching the limit of my agency.” Josephine explained calmly but with determination.  
“I don’t need you to send another damned letter - I want her back here like she promised!”

“What’s this about?” Alistair asked Varric, whose finger was immediately raised to his lips to gesture him to keep his voice down. He took him by the arm and pulled him towards the entrance, further away from the ambassador’s room.  
“You can’t guess?” the dwarven man asked when they were already out at the fresh air but not downstairs yet. The Warden shrugged.  
“Isn’t it always something new with her?” he asked, then sighed, closing his eyes before the thoughts finally got to him. “I’m so out of it-- I am done with this, I don’t want to guess anymore”  
“Alistair”  
“I am physically exhausted, I am--”  
“Alistair.” Varric kept interrupting him.  
“... what?” Alistair asked, snapped out of his monologue.  
“Tavern?”  
“Yeah.” The Warden snorted, then nodded. “Tavern.”

“So against my advice, you went up to Hawke’s room last night.” Varric stated, seated in the tavern next to Alistair in their usual space at the bar, two ales already ordered.  
“She told you?”  
“I can see it by the look on your face.” Varric said all-knowingly. “And yeah, she told me.”  
The Warden gave him a frustrated look from the corner of his eye, then grabbed the drink served to him and gulped half of it down.  
“She didn’t tell me what happened though. She just went off to complain to Josephine.”  
“So what was that about?” Alistair asked again.  
“You really can’t tell?” Varric asked and Alistair rolled his eyes, waiting for the reply. “The Inquisitor is busy with other matters to take care of before she can attend to the problem with Erimond. Aren’t you wondering why we are still hanging out in this tavern the whole time?”  
The Warden shrugged, not seeming to mind much.  
“Well I did think Inquisitor Lavellan was busy with something, I just couldn’t tell--”

“Disgusting!”  
Both men’s gazes were drawn to the corner of the tavern where they could spot an elven woman in agitation, throwing her drink into Iron Bull’s face. Quietly they watched the scene while Bull sighed and came up to Sera on the opposite site of the counter, wiping the liquid off his face with his bare hands. Sera had a hard time holding back her giggle.  
“And you are sure that this is going to work?” the Qunari asked and leaned against the bar counter, ordering another drink with a frustrated growl.  
“Ohhhh, definitely. Talking about halla mating practices is the newest kink among us elves.” The grin never faded from her face but she managed to talk in a more believable tone. “You were off to a good start. It just takes some, finesse, ya know.”  
“Finesse you say?”  
“Yeah... a bit more, what do you call it, subtlety.”  
“Subtlety?” Bull spoke every word like it was a completely new concept to him.  
“You’re gonna work it out, believe me.”  
“You’re not playing one of your pranks on me here, are you?” Bull asked, grabbing his drink that got set on the counter for him.  
“Wha-- no! No, I’d never.” she asserted immediately. “Ask Solas about it if you don’t believe me! He’s the expert. The sex-halla-expert, if you wanna call it that.”  
“ _Sex-halla-expert_?” he asked, pronouncing every word separately, looking at her in disbelief.  
“Ask Coryphepuss.” Sera added and started laughing.  
“Woman, you’re drunk!” he groaned.

Varric chuckled at the scene while Alistair pondered the relationship between the two. He could not figure it out as he had not talked to them more than a few words.  
“Maybe Bull should sleep with Hawke. Then she would finally calm down.” Varric suggested but Alistair did a double-take at him, then looked at Bull again.  
“Him?” he casually pointed towards the Qunari in question.  
“Yeah.” Varric replied, frowning slightly at Alistair’s somewhat alarmed state. “They’re both looking for someone, aren’t they?”  
“No way.” Alistair shook his head. “Mari-- Hawke is way too vulnerable for him.”  
Varric’s laughter came out almost hysterical.  
“Are we talking about the same Hawke here?”  
“Well... why, doesn’t he sleep with her?” With his thumb beneath the table he pointed towards Sera, and Varric took the hint right away.  
“Yeah, she likes Qunari. But she’s only into women.”  
“Maybe she could sleep with Hawke then.” Alistair suggested and Varric grinned.  
“... and you watch while they do it?”  
Alistair shrugged, then looked as if he was contemplating the thought, gesturing with his hands but Varric hit the wooden surface of the counter with his hand and fell into laughter before the Warden could speak.  
“Alistair, you’re a comedian!” he cried out in amusement and raised his glass towards him, taking a generous drink. While Alistair watched him confused, the drink was set back on the counter.  
“Seriously, you sound like you got a crush on Hawke.”  
“I don’t!” Alistair countered.  
“Yeah, yeah, better keep it that way -- keep it to yourself. Otherwise she’s gonna ride you like those elves ride their damn halla -- or the halla ride the halla if whatever Sera says is true.” 

“How _do_ the elves ride their halla though?” Bull asked, having overheard that last part of the conversation and shifted over a few seats to lean towards them in curiosity.  
“Like, uh-- like--” Varric straightened in his seat and raised his hands slightly, pretending to hold onto reins, then moved his body in a slow galloping, smoothly swaying way, almost like in a dance. “Like this. Sensually, gracefully.”  
“Yeah, real slow at first. So their hair blows in the wind.” Alistair started to join in the same movement for a while, gesturing with his hands to mimic the hair flying in the wind.  
“Yeah, yeah. And then they ride them harder. And faster.” Varric explained, pretending to ride the halla with more vigour, holding onto the reigns tighter. “And then, if the halla is lucky, they get kissed on the mouth at the end.”  
“If they deserved it.” Alistair added quickly.  
“Yeah, if they deserved it.” Varric confirmed, a finger raised and gesturing towards Alistair as if he was just reminded of that fact.  
“A slap on its ass is mandatory though.” Alistair stated.  
“Yeah, that-- that is absolutely happening. If there is no slap on the ass, it means you don’t honour your halla.” Varric nodded and let go off the imaginary reins, then pretended to slap the halla’s behind first right, then left. Bull stared at Varric quietly, then at Alistair, who lowered his gaze and nudged the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, trying to cover up his grin that way.  
“Oh those kinky, sophisticated elves!” Bull threw his hands in the air in frustration and went off to his usual place at the other side of the tavern, alone.

Alistair and Varric watched each other with a grin, then both chuckled quietly.  
“You think Inquisitor Lavellan rides halla?” Alistair asked curiously.  
“Oh yeah, surely.” Varric answered, though it sounded more like a profound guess. “On her missions it’s usually horses though.”  
Alistair nodded, taking a drink from his ale. He had only see her on the horse.  
“She should try a dwarf for a change. She’d dig the chest hair.” Varric spoke under his breath and Alistair coughed on his drink heavily, shaking his head as he tried to clear his throat.  
“Don’t-- don’t say these things.” he begged, wheezing quietly. “The mental image will haunt me longer than the Calling.”  
“Oh yeah? _You_ want to sleep with Hawke, who is like a sister to me, so you better think about that twice.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair happens to get drunk. It also turns out his armour does not fit well.

It was Alistair’s turn to get stupidly drunk. Until this night he could not even tell whether he had ever been drunk during the time with the Inquisition but now there was no doubt.  
He could not tell what had led him to indulge. Possibly it was the lightened mood at the tavern at first, that had become somewhat grave at last. Varric’s words left a bitter taste and the Warden could not tell what was behind them. Maybe Varric secretly favoured the Champion of Kirkwall a little too much, maybe it was his overly serious tone that was meant to be teasing. One could never tell with Varric and Alistair had only just found out about that character trait. Everyone else possibly knew, or everyone who cared knew. But he could not even bring up the courage to outright ask him, afraid to get a little too close to what would become a source of discomfort later.

Tumbling he found the way to his door, and for the first time he felt utterly thankful to have a room on the ground floor. The image of Hawke knocking on his door came back into his head, but he chased it away by a slow shake of his head.  
In surprise he looked at the door while things around him were on the verge of spinning. Had he left the door slightly ajar? Was there a howling wind that had caused it to open? He could not remember but as he approached it and opened it fully, he was struck by a figure in his room.

“Marian?”  
No. No no no, he was seeing things. She could not be here. He knew it, once she was in his thoughts, in this drunk state, she would not leave him.  
“Hawke.” she answered, her side turned to him as she remained almost unaffected by his presence and did not look at him, but at the sheets of paper held in her hands. “The one and only.”  
She was real. Her voice echoed through the room, Alistair could not be imagining this. The Calling was still playing its catchy tune in the background as well. This was real.  
“Privacy is not much of a thing for you, is it?” the Warden asked, barely making it past the door frame and closing the door behind him. His hand came to support him against the wall.  
“Not my kink, no.” she answered with the hint of a grin. “What’s up with you?”  
“I’ve had too many drinks obviously.” Alistair replied, hand lifted to hold his head. As if that had ever helped anyone to sober up.  
“No” Hawke lifted the sheets of paper in her hand, the letter he had written, for emphasis. “What’s up with you here?”

Making his way towards her, albeit slowly, and finding hold onto the chair just between them, Alistair ripped the sheets out of her hands. In reaction a grin appeared on the woman’s face.  
“You don’t want to tell her a bit more about what is going on in Skyhold? Or is it _what happens in the Frostback Mountains stays in the Frostback Mountains_?”  
“Why are you in my room?!” Alistair had no patience to play the game and cut right to the chase. The message must have been clear enough to get an answer from her at last.  
“Why; you were in my room last night, uninvited, might I add. Isn’t it my turn now?”  
“Didn’t you say you did not want to see me anymore?”  
“In my room, yeah.” Hawke snorted.  
Alistair growled in frustration and sat down on the chair between them, unable to stand any longer.  
“I don’t know why you are doing this to me. I am too tired for all of this now.”  
“You’re tired?” she asked softly but just as he was about to reply harshly, he felt her hand on his head, running through his hair, caressing it with a gentle curl of her fingers that then reach past his neck. Involuntarily he shivered at the intimate touch, lingered in it only for a moment before he got up in a rush and almost stumbled and fell on the way to his bed, but she stabilized him by a hold onto his arm. In shock he looked at her. He did not even know what was more shocking - that she kept touching him or that sudden softness in her every gesture. The sweet angelic face that he had seen only once, the first night that he was with her, in his bed, looked right back at him.

She accompanied him the short path to his bed where she sat down next to him. Alistair sighed and looked away, but involuntarily his gaze returned back to her. It was to him like he was seeing things, this could not be really happening.  
“Let’s take off your clothes so you can sleep.” she suggested quietly, with her hands already on the seam of his shirt.  
“No-- No, I can do that myself just fine” he replied in a hurry, nervously pushing her hands off him. Every tender touch of those hands threatened to drive him insane. He took a hold of the seam himself and got rid of his shirt while Hawke leaned down to untie his boots.  
Carefully her fingers worked around the laces, eventually all Alistair could feel was how the weight of the boots was lifted, at last he heard them being set aside.

“Your armour doesn’t seem to fit right” Hawke remarked.  
“Hm? What do you mean?” Alistair wondered, his shirt taken off and discarded on his lap for the time being. Hawke’s fingers came to run over the red marks around the collar bone and the Warden almost hissed at the delicate touch, but bit his lip instead. Grasping her hand at once, he made her refrain from touching him. There was no way Hawke did not know she was driving him insane.  
“Your skin is chafed from the friction.” she stated plainly, then leaned in. “Let me make it better.”  
A shiver ran down his spine. The Warden’s eyes shut at the touch of her soft lips against his bruised skin and when her tongue slid out, all that could be heard from him was a broken-off sigh.

“Maker-- please” he begged. He could not possibly, in this drunk state, -- oh, turns out he could, yes, he still could. His body reacted to the touch on its own. And only now he realized that her hand was laying idly on his thigh but so dreadfully close to the area covered by his shirt. At least she could not feel it, and she would not see it as long as his shirt was kept there.  
Nevertheless her tongue working along the red marks and the soft lips planting the most intimate kisses were enough to keep him at this level of excitement. With another sigh, Alistair turned away at last. Hawke stopped and leaned back.  
“You know, we don’t have to share a bed. I can carry you up to your room.” Hawke smirked.  
“What?” It took him a moment to break free from their previous scene. “Oh. Ha-ha. Very funny.”  
He rolled his eyes at her but then shifted, sitting against the wall to support his back.  
“I don’t-- _you know_ I don’t think this is a good idea.”  
“Well, you should definitely get some better fitting armour.” she answered while her gaze was strictly on his exposed chest.  
“... Would you stop staring at me like that?” He would have lifted his shirt and covered himself but he knew the risk. It was the lesser of to evils to just let her stare.

Eventually Hawke leaned away, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, her back on Alistair.  
“I don’t know if I can go on like this.” she sighed.  
“Like what? What are you talking about now?”  
“I can hear the birds singing at the sound of your voice. The thought of you turns everything into a beautiful all too vivid dream.” she confessed. Alistair froze instantly. He wanted to ask what it meant, but her trail of thought continued. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have long withered.”  
Alistair sighed at her words and stretched out his arm.  
“Come. Come here” he said softly and as she turned to look towards him, he encouraged her with a wave of his hand towards himself. As soon as she came closer, he grasped her arm softly and pulled her into his embrace. Nuzzling against his chest at first, she shifted until her head rested upon his shoulder and the tip of her nose nudged against his neck.  
“You’re just lonely. It’ll pass.” he assured her, both arms around her protectively.  
“You can keep telling yourself that.” she chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist.  
“Either way, I’m here for you.” he replied, not wanting to think about what Hawke meant.  
“You’ve got a present for me too, don’t you?” she asked and took Alistair off-guard again. Before he could ask, her hand ran beneath the shirt on his lap and checked up on her assumption, grinning as she found him as excited as she expected.  
“ _Sweet-- Maker!_ Stop” he pulled her away by the wrist but she laughed and willingly retreated, patting his thigh before wrapping her arm around his waist again. Both sighed quietly as they were back in their almost platonic embrace and their eyes closed while they held onto each other peacefully.

“Your sweat smells really good, Alistair.”  
“.. You’re joking, right?” His eyes opened at once, staring across the room. No one had ever said anything like that to him. Hawke usually chuckled or grinned when she joked, but not this time.  
“No, I mean it. I like how you smell.” she spoke calmly against his neck, her eyes still closed. 

The Warden sighed once more and turned his face away from her. Something in him was lighting up, that tingle in his heart that he first felt on their night of the bet. He could swear he had felt something when they first met in Kirkwall, but maybe it just felt like that to him now. He wondered if anyone had ever liked him this much - even if they did, no one had made it ever as clear as Hawke.  
She seemed to notice his sudden change and looked up at him, leaning away from him ever so slightly. It made him turn around to her again to look into her eyes. When their gazes met, it was an honest exchange, without either of them flinching away. A mix of grief and longing was in Alistair’s eyes, something hopeful yet sad was in Hawke’s. Then her eyelids grew heavy. Alistair leaned in just slightly, carefully, and in reaction Hawke followed suit, both finally closing their eyes as they sealed their lips in a kiss.  
Gentle at first, Hawke only kissed him briefly, then once more, only to have her lips part this time. Her hand found to the side of his face, pulling him in cautiously, telling him silently through the hold onto him that it was alright. He gave in and let her tongue invade his mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovers interrupted.

“Did-- Did we...?” The Warden was more than thankful to awake in his own bed, though with the woman lying right next to him, somewhat confused.  
“No” Hawke chuckled, looking into his eyes with sweetness in her gaze. “We didn’t. I don’t think you would have been able to last.”  
“You just want me to prove you wrong, don’t you?”  
“Possibly.” Hawke answered with a grin.  
“And if I don’t? Will you get up and leave again?”  
“Not necessarily.” she answered, grin softening.  
“You mean... we could maybe-- spend some time together? Like actual people?” Alistair smiled at his own suggestion and let his hand run over her arm casually.  
“Is that what actual people do? Was I not people to you until now?” she asked teasingly.  
“Hey, come on now, don’t ruin this. We had such a good start.”  
“Alright, alright. What do you suggest?”  
“Hmm maybe we could go for a nice walk in the fields? Or we take a ride out with the horses. Breakfast at the river?”  
Hawke chuckled as Alistair’s hand reached up to her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek, and they spend a few moments lost in each other’s gazes.

“Alistair, are you up yet?” A knock on the door and the accompanying words stopped their conversation. Hawke jumped up at once.  
“Shit, shitshitshitshit” Hawke hissed quietly at the sound of Varric’s voice, nervously looking around in the room. Her gaze fell onto the window. Fortunately she was still dressed.  
“Look, I need to talk to you. Hawke’s not in her room.” Varric spoke from behind the door. It was their luck that Varric was so well-mannered and did not burst into rooms like the two of them. Or maybe he just did not want to risk seeing him naked.

Boots in her hand, Hawke looked towards Alistair once more, then towards the door. She leaned in to kiss him, and met just the corner of his lips, making him wonder if she had wanted to kiss his cheek or mouth.  
“I’ll see you later” she whispered before jumping right out of the window. The rustle of bushes announced her drop into the courtyard and in a split second she was gone with no trace left behind.  
Alistair settled onto his forearms as he lifted himself up slowly, still not grasping what had just happened within what seemed to him like two seconds. He had never seen anyone leave so quickly. Even Darkspawn, it seemed to him, took more time to kiss him good-bye. And there went his date.

“What took you so long?” Varric asked once the door was opened. The dwarven man froze as he saw the barefoot, shirtless Warden and a sense of uneasiness overcame Alistair as he noticed the ever so subtle signs of surprise.  
“Well, I, uh... sleep naked, you see. Didn’t want you to fall in a coma when you see me au naturel.”  
Varric stepped inside, closing the door behind him deliberately slow and raising his eyebrows in suspicion.  
“Naked, huh?” he repeated and started to scratch his beard. First the chin, as if contemplating the answer, then closer towards his mouth. Alistair watched him while the other man’s fingers kept scratching - or was he wiping something? Their gazes met without any interruption until Alistair’s heart stopped still. _Hawke’s lipstick_. He ran two fingers past the corner of his mouth to wipe it and looked at the barely visible trace. Was Varric tricking him?

“So you’re into make-up now? Like them fancy Orlesians?” Varric asked, both hands lowered as he waited for an explanation.  
“What? Yeah, no -- it must have been something I ate last night.” Was there even any trace left on him anywhere? And of course there was never a mirror when one needed it. What were all those Eluvians for, if not one of them was used as an actual mirror?  
“Oh yeah? Interesting food that must be, in that shade of beige. You gotta tell me what that was sometime, never seen anything like it.”  
“Oh, yeah, no, I don’t even remember what I ate. I was so drunk and just ate whatever there was.”  
“Yeah, no doubt. I saw you last night. Can’t say I expected that.”  
“Anyway” He cleared his throat. “What did you want to talk about? Something about Hawke you say?”  
Varric stopped a moment before he raised his hand and gestured a finger in a lecturing way.  
“See when it’s about Hawke, you always listen up. You really have a crush on that girl.” He shook his head and lowered his hand. “I wanted to check up on her, but she is not in her room. I don’t know where she could be. I suppose you haven’t seen her? Do you think she ran off?”  
“Nahhh” Alistair’s reply came so fast, with his hand gesturing him to perish the thought, that Varric’s eyes narrowed at him again. The Warden laughed, trying to overcome the nervousness. “You know Hawke. She’s probably just running around somewhere, pestering someone.”  
“I’ve asked a few other people but no one has seen her today.” he explained and Alistair started to wonder what time it was. With his gaze towards the window he realized it must have been almost noon.

“You think she got together with Bull?”  
“Huh? Oh, pfff” Alistair shrugged, almost theatrically feigning ignorance. “Could be. Who knows.”  
The man’s narrowed eyes watched him carefully and Alistair tried his best to play it cool.  
“You’re awfully strange today, Alistair.” he remarked but shrugged it off. “I just hope she is alright and didn’t run off somewhere alone.”  
“But no one saw her leave either, right?” Alistair asked.  
“Yeah... yeah, you’re right about that. It doesn’t seem like she left. The guards would have seen her at least.” Varric nodded to himself, pacified for the time being. “Anyway, I’ll take my leave now. Tell Hawke that I’m looking for her if you happen to bump into her. Oh, and wipe that lipstick off your face.”

* * *

Half the day, or what felt like it at least, Alistair had scrubbed his face with a cloth during his bath and could not find any stains. There was no damn lipstick on him. Paranoid, he had even checked his chest and his clothes but could not find anything. Varric, that bastard. Played him like a fiddle.  
While he was still contemplating when it would be appropriate to see Hawke again, Alistair felt a hand grasp him by the wrist and pull him in while he was walking back to his room.  
“I want to show you something. Come with me.” Hawke said and lead him up a flight of stairs, then past the hallway and down several other flights of stairs, until they reached the Undercroft.  
“You really have a talent for showing up out of nowhere” Alistair commented while willingly following.  
“You like it. Don’t complain.”  
“I’m not complaining.” he assured her. “But you know Varric is looking for you.”  
“And he can keep looking until he’s old and grey. Here, look” Hawke pointed at the armour that was being crafted for the Inquisitor and her companions. “They can make you some better fitting armour here. I’m sure they have something to make you look like a King’s bastard son as well.”  
Alistair chuckled at her words while he watched the process of armour being made.  
“As flattered as I am, I’m not sure I should be here at all. Isn’t this only for the Inquisitor to use?”  
“Oh damn the Inquisitor! She is not even around. What would it hurt her?!” Hawke argued, and in that very moment both heard someone else making their way down the stairs to them as they stood at the abyss. Both turned towards the entrance.

“Lady Hawke, good to find you here. You are harder to take a hold of than the Inquisitor herself.” Josephine’s words came in a soft chuckle as she stepped in equally soft, but then froze in her movements. “Oh, am I -- My apologies, I must be coming at an inconvenient time?”  
Her gaze came to Alistair’s hand that laid on Hawke’s arm so naturally. The hand was withdrawn at once, though not without reluctance, and formed to a fist. Josephine’s gaze came back to meet the Warden’s eyes.  
“Not at all, Lady Montilyet.” Alistair reassured her in a formal manner, although it came out less cheerful than expected. Hawke looked at Alistair in sheer innocence, then turned towards Josephine.  
“What is this about?” she asked curiously, but in a sober tone. There was a tension in it that made Alistair believe she was on her toes about the Ambassador’s inquiry.  
“Why... it seems I was mistaken then.” Josephine shrugged with a smile, then sorted through the notes on the board she was carrying. “It’s good news, Lady Hawke. No reason to be alarmed. The Inquisitor has finally sent word! And she agreed to meet you halfway to Adamant at a camp she has set up. You will be riding out in the morning.”

Alistair watched Hawke’s lips part, but no word came out as she processed the message. In what seemed like silent lament to him, she looked over only slowly, frowning helplessly at him. And there, indeed, went his date.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Hawke reach the Inquisition camp.

As the sun was setting, the darkening fields loomed before the group on their way to meet the Inquisitor at the promised spot.  
Guilt never left Alistair’s face these days, and after having left the Champion of Kirkwall with her own thoughts for most of the ride, he finally caught up with her, his horse on one level with Hawke’s. She looked over her shoulder as he approached, her gaze devoid of feelings.  
“Look, we can--”  
“You don’t have to talk to me.” she broke in apathetically but in a firm tone.  
“What? Why are you saying that?” He tried to read her expression but she decided to look straight ahead to the road again.  
“We don’t have any business together past this. We are allies, that is all we have been, for all we know. For all _they_ know.”  
The hint was subtle, but clear enough for Alistair to not ask any further questions at this point. Wordlessly, he let his horse slow down again and rode in the back, the position giving him the advantage to check up on her if needed. Maybe it was him who needed it more than her though.

At the camp not far off the fortress, their rendezvous point, Alistair and Hawke stood straight in front of the Inquisition scout, greeting him in a formal manner. It turned out that they were once again kept waiting; Inquisitor Lavellan had not arrived yet. An annoyed sigh made Hawke turn off in disgust while Alistair watched her, then he demanded further explanation from the scout.  
“Not to worry. The inquisitor is expected to arrive at daybreak. Enough time for you to rest.”  
“It’s that fashionably lateness important people have to keep up with, isn’t it?” the Warden joked but the scout remained painfully unamused and stiff, almost as if struck by lighting.  
The view of Hawke holding her head in annoyance and uncertainty greeted Alistair when he turned around to her.  
“It’s no use. Save your breath” she commented without much emotion, let her hand drop and walked off towards the set-up sleeping quarter.

At dusk his eyes had wondered off to her several times while he was setting up his own tent. It seemed subtle enough, she had not noticed him, fully immersed in her own construction. And yet somehow he had hoped she would have met his eyes, but he did not consider it his right to talk her up after her words earlier.  
When he was finally lying down to rest, sleep came much faster than expected. A rustling awoke him what seemed to be only minutes later, then footsteps were heard and he could see a shadow forming on the veil of tent’s entrance. For a moment he sat up, wondering if it was only the guard on night duty at the pale camp fire. Then he saw the figure cast a shadow again, and noticed it was definitely a woman. Was that maybe Inquisitor Lavellan who had arrived earlier and went to rest now?  
Before any other suspicions could enter his mind, the tent’s curtain was pulled open and a woman slipped in.  
“Maker” Alistair said in surprise, then shook his head and snorted while straightening himself up, pushing the blanket off him.  
“What?” Hawke asked, sitting down beside him with the most stoic look on her face.  
“Nothing” he answered, chuckling. “It’s just, I never have to look for you. You always show up.”  
“Convenient, isn’t it?” A smug grin finally showed on her lips.  
“It is, indeed.”  
Alistair shifted closer to her, but at once she raised her hand to the level of her waist, creating an invisible border between the two of them. Alistair stopped at once but frowned.  
“Wait, that’s too close”  
“Wha- What are you-- We slept next to each other for _half a week_.”  
“Don’t act like you’re my boyfriend now.” she said calmly but defensively.  
“I’m not!” he argued, then sighed. “Maker, Varric was right about you. You are one difficult woman.”  
“Oh yeah? And you’re a specialist in all matters concerning women now?”  
“I did not claim that.” the Warden said firmly. Hawke watched him closely for a moment then pulled up her legs towards herself. She looked away, then when her gaze softened her attention was drawn towards the man shifting in his position to sit in front of her on his temporary bedding, on leg propped up, his arm resting atop.  
“So why did you come?” he asked. Hawke’s features became so soft that it made one think she could break at the lightest touch, and Alistair cursed himself for asking.

“You said we’d ride out. To the river.” Her answer came unexpected and he looked at her confused, then remembered his words from the other morning.  
“I mean-- I said that, yes. You want to ride out now?”  
A nod from her side made him smile and he leaned over to take a look out of his tent. Far off he could only see the guard on duty, everyone else seemed to be asleep. He turned towards Hawke again.  
“Alright. Let’s do it.”

Dressed and armoured, the two of them sneaked to the horses which they took quietly down the camp, and only rode them out once they were in a safe distance from the camp. Alistair had studied the map before, and paid attention to the roads on the way, so that he had an idea of where to find the river. And soon they heard the quiet rippling of the water which lead them to a quiet spot. The green was vast and clear and no trees, no bushes could be seen, which provided a generous view but equally invited the relentless wind.  
As they dismounted, the Warden settled in the grass, fully taking in the view while Hawke went ahead to let her hand run through the water.

When she came to his side, she left a distinctive amount of space between them as she sat down.  
“You’re sure about that? Not too close for you?” the Warden inquired jokingly.  
“You’re testing me.”  
“Am I? I thought--” Before Alistair could finish his sentence, he felt her arms around him, and at last her lips. She lingered only long enough for Alistair to want more, but when she leaned back, he stared at her, first in awe, then confused.  
“You’re _sure_ about this?”  
“What does it matter now? It feels like we might as well be gone by tomorrow.” Her arms around him loosened until one was settled in the grass, the other on the Warden’s thigh.  
“Don’t talk like that. We’ll go home. It will be fine.”  
“And then what? You’ll marry the Hero of Ferelden?”  
“I never thought about it until now. Not like that anyway.” Alistair confessed, feeling the guilt creep up again.  
“How are you thinking about it now?”  
“I’d like to reconsider things. But, with you, it’s-- I don’t know.” His eyes now showed a notion of doubt. “Do you even... do you--”  
“What? Do I what?” Hawke asked, seeming genuinely unaware.  
“Do you even really like me?” As soon as the question was asked aloud, his arm was hit.  
“How can you dare to ask me that?” She looked at him, offended, then weakened in softness, her gaze pleading.  
“Did you want to come with me then?” Alistair asked, rubbing his arm after the harsh touch.  
“I don’t think I should. Or can.” she sighed, turning around to face the river instead of the Warden, knees raised as she looked past scenery of darkened blue and green. “I belong to Kirkwall. Besides, you know you would not have it easy with me. Just ask my past lovers.”  
“What happened to them?”  
“They all died.” She looked over with a straight face.  
“How?”  
“Well, one talked too much so I had to kill him.”  
“... What do you mean he talked too much? What-- how did he--”  
“He always talked and talked, I just had to kill him, okay? I had no choice” She tried to keep a straight face but a grin gave her away, to which Alistair reacted with a grim face.  
“The other one, he left me. So obviously I had to kill him too.” she explained, the heaviness back in her tone.  
“That’s how it went?”  
“That’s how it went.”  
“Never leave a Hawke, noted.” Alistair remarked and both chuckled.  
“Make her break up with you instead.” he added, pretending to take notes. “Just not by talking too much. That won’t work in your favour.” Both laughed quietly and Hawke brushed his arm casually, seemingly wanting to hit him playfully first but then reconsidering.

“I’ve never been taken out like this.” Hawke confessed into the silence.  
“Me neither.” Alistair admitted and made her grin again.  
“Right, you’re the girl here. I keep forgetting that.”  
“You like my girly side, don’t you?” he asked, nudging her jokingly, which in turn made her lean in. His arm came to rest around her shoulders naturally.  
“You really want to hear me say it it seems.”  
“Only if you don’t mind, My Lady.” he encouraged her. With a nod, she let her guard down.  
“Yeah... I do. I like all sides of you, I think.”  
“Even the bad ones?” He looked over with a curious smile and Hawke smiled back in mischief.  
“Oh, especially those.”


End file.
